Letters to a Lady
by Aozorain
Summary: After the cataclysm, Cyan runs into a dead end - and finds himself a new purpose.


**A/N: Two things I want to say. Firstly, I am NOT familiar enough with archaic English to mimic Cyan easily (though he doesn't speak it perfectly either, or so I've heard). So do bear with me.**

**Secondly, this is the first story that has actually been beta-read by someone else besides me. Now introducing: Pearline, a good friend of mine, and as of now, my beta :D Check out her stories when you're in need of fluffy cuteness!**

**Now I've kept you long enough. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Letters to a lady  
**

'_Zozo 20 miles'_ said the carving in a milestone, an arrow pointing to the direction of the liars' town. Cyan nodded in agreement, seeing that he was going the right way. It wasn't easy to find one's way around in the new world after the cataclysm as no one had yet managed to travel wide enough to draw a map of it. Everything people knew about the current geography was based on rumours and the stories of the few travellers who had the means to cross wide distances from one town to another.

"_At least the sky hath remained the same," _Cyan mused. The sun and the stars had been a big help on the vast, lifeless plains that held no landmarks or roads. Most signposts had been swept away by the storm as well – only the most solid, stone ones had remained.

Cyan noticed a cluster of rocks nearby and went to see closer. As he had suspected, there was just enough space between the rocks to provide shelter for the night. The Doman warrior did have a tent with him, but the cave-like space would probably help to keep the wind away better than the thin fabric. The nights on the plains were bitterly cold. Not cold like the snowy slopes of Narshe, not like the dripping wetness of an underwater cave, but dry and hollow, as if dead. Meanwhile, the days were hot, blazing red and blinding yellow. Few things made sense in the world at the moment, and climate was not one of them.

After gathering some dry wood the warrior made a small fire at the mouth of his adobe for the night and made a cosy place for himself. Taking off his boots and massaging his tired feet he absently dreamed about taking a nice, hot bath. The last time he had washed himself had been in Jidoor – the innkeeper hadn't even given him a room before he promised to update his personal hygiene. Even with the circumstances, Jidoorans were still somewhat particular about themselves, though not to the extent they had been before the catastrophe.

It had been four months already, though Cyan had been unconscious for a good part of it. A friendly old couple that lived on a farm near Maranda had found him and taken care of him until he was feeling better. To repay their kindness he had offered to serve as a bodyguard to see the two safely to Maranda, as the farm was already beyond saving: plants wouldn't grow and animals starved or got sick. The house had been badly damaged as well.

From Maranda to the Opera House, then to Jidoor, then north towards Zozo...and still no clue about his companions' whereabouts.

"Yet I must remain hopeful," he told the bonfire, which gave him no response.

At sunrise he was on his way again: he would take the route west of the mountains circling Zozo instead of going to the town. It would be too long a detour to make and the last thing the lonesome warrior needed was to be robbed blind. The route should take him to Kohlingen and even Figaro desert, where he believed to be able to learn something of his friends' whereabouts.

After two days of walking he noticed that something was wrong. He should be nowhere near the coastline, but he could see a large body of water right ahead of him. He wondered if he had made some sort of a mistake and altered his course slightly more northwest. He discovered yet another impassable border. He vowed he would eat his smelling socks if there had been an ocean there before. But there it was. Cyan took the opportunity to take a swim in the cold but unpolluted water. Afterwards he sat at the beach, watching the waves and singing a traditional Doman marching tune. It was one of his favourites but now he didn't make it through the third verse when a painfully familiar face appeared in his memories.

"_Go forth, son of Doma, thine lady awaits_

_her bosom's warmth and sweetness in her eyes..."_

* * *

"I am in dire need of another place to accommodate myself," Cyan told himself a week later. He could take it no more. The tiny room in Zozo that he currently occupied was constantly under an attempt of robbery and burglary. Not only the human residents tried to relieve him of all his belongings worth any gil, but the previous morning there had been a Hill Gigas reaching its hand through the third-floor window. The town had not changed for the better, at the very least.

He addressed the problem later in the pub while talking to a local merchant – the only honest person in the whole town. His only crime was his tendency to overcharge people while doing his business of importing goods from Jidoor to Zozo.

"Maybe you should go to the mountain, then? No one goes there because the monsters are worse robbers than anyone in town! But since you can keep whole Zozo out of your room, you could just about make it in there. I can sell you all the stuff you need up there."

"Agreed. I shall move tomorrow," said Cyan, about to sip his drink. He opted not to do so, however, as the liquor had suddenly gained a faint herbal smell. Someone hoping to get him out cold to do the "moving" for him, no doubt.

A few days later the Doman decided that it had been a good idea. He had found the perfect spot deep inside Mt. Zozo, free from thieves and other nuisances. Plus, the view was worth to be captured in a painting.

"_Lady Relm would undoubtedly be overjoyed,"_ Cyan mused. But he dwelled no longer on the subject, as something else caught his attention. Something was flying towards the mountain, something small and white. It was a carrier pigeon. Apparently the small cavern on the rock face was a resting place for pigeons of the region. The bird was exhausted and it allowed Cyan to take off the message tied to its leg after he offered some water and crusted bread in return. It was as tame as pigeons would get.

The letter was from a Marandan girl named Lola. Cyan remembered her, the lady who missed terribly her boyfriend who lay injured in Mobliz. Cyan had heard from the innkeeper in Jidoor that Mobliz had been destroyed completely. Could the solder have survived?

Now a bit worried about the girl, Cyan silenced his gentleman's conscience nagging about reading other people's letters and started to decipher the curvy handwriting.

"_Dear Cain,_

_Are you alright? I have not received any word from you for a long time. I cannot stop thinking about you. Ever since that horrible earthquake I have only longed to hear that you are alive and well. Even the record you sent was broken that day. I can no longer listen to it and imagine you are here with me._

_Please, write to me! I cannot live without you._

_I will always love you,_

_Lola"_

The tear marks on the paper and the rushed manner of the writing spoke louder than the actual words of the letter. Cyan read the letter once, twice. Then, as if in a trance, he sat down in a chair (one of the luxuries in his rather ascetic living quarters at the moment and started composing a reply on the paper he normally used as a memo for the by-Zozo-standards-honest merchant whenever he needed something in the mountains.

"_Dear Lola,_

_I am ashamed to have caused thee such worry and grief. The cataclysm took its fearsome toll on Mobliz as well but we shall overcome this challenge. I am soon healed and thou art to worry for me no more for I shall write thee faithfully from hereon._

_Thou art ever in my mind,_

_Cain"_

Cyan sealed the letter, addressed it to Maranda and reattached the paper to the pigeon's leg. It crooned and set off, leaving only a couple of stray feathers behind.

A reply arrived in three days. It was considerably longer and happier, full of sentimental declarations of love and half-hearted chiding at him for not sending any word sooner. Cyan chuckled and petted the pigeon with his calloused hands. It had been a long time since he had been in such a good mood.

* * *

"You sure you want all of this? I won't do it for nothing," the Zozoian merchant said sceptically, giving the list in his hand with an incredulous look. Cyan kept a straight face, scratching his moustache casually while taking a gil pouch out of his pocket.

"Lack of wealth hath never been a hindrance to me."

"I suppose you're the boss here, then...but Jidooran blue ink and silk paper?"

"Calligraphy and paper arts are pastimes of much tradition in my homeland. Doma may be gone yet her spirit must live on."

The merchant didn't still seem convinced but when he peeked inside the gil pouch, the glint in his eyes assured Cyan that the deal was already done. The money taken from the Mug Bears on the mountain was going to be put in good use.

"_Dear Cain,_

_it is full moon and I cannot sleep. I miss you so much._

_It has been a year since you had to leave. Do you remember? The garden was in full bloom. There were all kinds of flowers, all kinds of dreams... Now we cannot make anything grow, it's as if the earth was...dead._

_Oh, Why must I be so melancholic! I do not mean to make you feel sad, I am sure you are struggling, too. Sometimes I just cannot help losing hope. I want to be near you again._

_With eternal love,_

_Lola" _

Cyan frowned. Lola had not once sounded so depressed. He kneeled in front of the chest that had just been delivered from Jidoor, just as he had requested. It held proper bird food – Cyan had already become familiar with three different pigeons Lola used – some food properties and daily tools for himself, quality equipment for letter-writing and some magazines, _most_ of which dealt with learning to use machines. It was high time he got over his fear of them. For the time being, Cyan gave the pigeon its food and sat down on his bed, wondering how to cheer Lola up.

Whenever Elaine had been upset about something, he had given her flowers. She'd always kept fresh flowers in a vase in their bedroom and often one or two had adorned her wavy hair. But in the winter flowers were hard to find. Retreating to a warm corner around the fireplace, the three of them would make, among other things, flowers out of colourful paper. Elaine would bring them to her face and tell they even smelled just like real flowers, and Owain would strongly protest. The smiles of his family in moments like those were enough to make the stone walls appear warmer.

Lost in nostalgia, Cyan made paper flowers all day long. He made them delicate, red roses, carefully folding and creasing the silky material to satisfy his critical eye. Finally he put white wrapping around the flowers and made a bouquet, accompanied by a letter:

"_Dear Lola,_

_Thou must not let thine heart plunge into the dark! 'Tis the same moon thou hath been watching as well as I, under the same sky. May that very moon shed light of hope upon thee._

_These flowers are as that light, ne'er withering. Water them not with tears but smiles instead._

_Ever faithfully,_

_Cain"_

Cyan attached the bouquet securely to the pigeon's leg. The Marandan breed was excellent: it never ceased to surprise him how easily they could carry quite heavy weights. The bird left off flapping its wings until it got a little wind under them, soaring to the sky above the mountains.

* * *

"_Dear Lola..."_

It had never been harder to continue the letter after those words.

The way he lived now was more than enough for him. He spent most days reading, reminiscing, appreciating the scenery and writing letters for Lola. Every now and then he would go down to Zozo, spend an evening in the pub, talking with the merchant (though he had learned to deal with other Zozoians, too, in time) to hear the latest news. It was a peaceful life.

But there had been a feeling growing inside him for many weeks now. Lola's innocent words of kindness did not cheer him up like before. Rather, they depressed him.

He knew all too well the pain of losing loved ones. Had he not seen Elaine and Owain aboard the Phantom Train, waving goodbye to him, he would have taken hold of any thread of hope available. Lola was probably the same. She was holding onto the false reality he chose to offer her, the made-up stories of rebuilding Mobliz and coming back as soon as possible, the memories of her he pretended to remember. That way, he had hoped he could save her form the pain he had to endure, but was he not only postponing the inevitable? The girl's longing for her beloved was evident in her letters – was he not only shackling her onto the past by giving her false hope?

A whole year had passed after the cataclysm. It was high time to let go –

"Cyan? Is that you?"

Cyan spun around at the familiar voice. He had been standing on the cliff with the best view and hadn't heard anyone coming. But whoever he had been expecting, General Celes was not among those people. Cyan gaped, unable to find any words. Sabin, Edgar and Setzer were by the General's side, all in good health and looking surprised, though not to the extent Cyan personally felt.

They had a new airship and a new goal: to reunite with their friends and destroy Kefka. If the seven of them – Terra in Mobliz and, Cyan had heard, Gau on the Veldt – had survived, it was possible that the others had as well.

Cyan left Zozo without much ceremony, only thanking the merchant for his services. Apparently he had been the one to give his friends a hint about the Doman's whereabouts.

"Too bad to see you leave, though," he said. "You're the best thing that ever happened to my business, I tell you!"

After getting to the airship Cyan asked Setzer to fly them to Maranda. The gambler gave him a meaningful look but, to Cyan's relief, agreed without saying anything.

Maranda hadn't changed too much since the last time Cyan had seen it. The old couple that had helped him had settled in a little house in the outskirts of the town and Lola's house still stood on the same place as before. It pleased Cyan to notice that someone had repaired the cracks on the roof while he had been gone.

Lola opened the door soon after Celes knocked the third time. She seemed to be well enough, only a little pale, but so did everyone else. Maintaining a balanced diet was a real challenge in the World of Ruin, as some people had come to refer to it. Celes held the letter out to the other girl.

"We came by the post office and they said this was for you," the General lied quickly, smiling politely. Lola took the letter with both hands as if it might break and smiled.

"That was quicker than I expected! Come in, since you went through the trouble of bringing it here."

Cyan didn't know if he felt proud or embarrassed to see that the house was practically filled with his paper rose bouquets. There was an abnormal number of ink bottles and paper on the tiny desk and Cyan guessed he was not the only one who had put a lot of time and effort to their correspondence.

"Aren't the flowers lovely? Since nothing grows here anymore, my boyfriend sent me these. They'll never wilt! Now, I'm sorry to be so rude but I must know what he has to say," Lola's words were full of youth and naïveté, fresh and pure like the morning after the year's first snowfall. She opened the letter and Cyan could almost feel her eyes scanning the paper, every word he had written to confess his mendacious deed. The girl's smile faded and she sat down on the chair, her face thoughtful. Everyone else in the room was holding their breath, waiting for some kind of a reaction. After a moment, Lola seemed to come back to reality and notice her guests.

"It...wasn't my boyfriend after all, the one who wrote the letters. I...think he might be dead." At this point she swallowed quite loudly and Edgar flinched nervously at the sight of a lady's tears. Cyan was far beyond the point of noticing the young King. "I guess I knew...all along. I was just too afraid to admit it," Lola shook her head. "I was just lying to myself... But it's all right now." She got back up and eyed the letter lovingly. "I don't know who wrote those letters but reading them helped to ease the pain in my heart. I'm sure whoever wrote them must have suffered the same kind of pain... I wish I could meet him."

Sabin stepped forward and opened his mouth. "Actually –"Cyan pushed him quickly aside before the Monk had time to continue. He had no intention of revealing his identity. Lola had just relieved him of a burden that had tortured him for weeks. She was truly ready to move on, and he was glad to know that he had been a part of her life the past months without weighing her down. He had brought her joy as much as she had brought him.

It was best to be left at that.

"Look to the future," he told her sternly. "No matter how dark it may be, there will always come another dawn. And after it, another day..."

Lola looked him to the eye, a bit puzzled. For a moment Cyan feared he had been found out, but soon the girl's face lit up with a gentle smile and she took one bouquet of flowers from the desk and placed it in the elder man's hands.

"Thank you for your kind words. I'd like you to have this, so you won't forget to look forward, either!"

"Surely there will be a time when beautiful flowers like these will grow again," said Celes and everyone in the room agreed, nodding and smiling.

Cyan promised himself that someday he would sing his favourite song, head held high, all the way until the end.

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**A/N: So, how did you like it? Were there too much time skips (sorry about that)? Something else you dis-/liked? Speak up, people so I know what you're thinking about :D**

**Cain is not a reference to anything whatsoever. Just the first thing that came to my mind (I'm sooo bad at coming up with names.)**

**Thanks for reading!**


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